


Lost

by sinestrated



Series: Past Tense [4]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s01e04 Sanctuary, M/M, Married Couple, Mild Gore, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23650306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinestrated/pseuds/sinestrated
Summary: Three days after the attack on the Covert, Paz makes good on his promise.
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Paz Vizla
Series: Past Tense [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675399
Comments: 8
Kudos: 222





	Lost

Thirteen-year-old Ruun Vizsla drew herself up and glared at him, dark eyes glittering with fury and grief. “You,” she hissed, “can just fuck right off.”

Din crossed his arms and tried to keep his gaze steady, even as frustration warred with the worry and guilt in his heart. Gods, he was just so  _ tired. _ “Ruun, I’m serious, if you don’t get back to the village and apologize right now—”

“You’re not even my father!” Ruun’s scream bounced about the interior of the Razor Crest. “You’re just the man who married him! So leave me the fuck alone!” And before Din could do anything, could shout back or try to explain or fucking reach out and shake her he had no idea, she scrambled back a few steps into the fresher and snapped the partition shut.

It would’ve been comical, how she’d just tried to slam a door on a cramped ship with basically no personal space, if his whole world hadn’t already been on the verge of collapse. Din let out a trembling breath and sank down onto the edge of the rack, scrubbing a palm over his face, leather rasping across the stubble on his jaw. Shit, when was the last time he’d shaved? Paz was going to laugh at him.

If they ever found him. If Din’s husband wasn’t right now a lonely corpse rotting away in some dark corner on Nevarro, where the Imps had attacked and destroyed their home.

The memory of the transmission still sent cold shivers down his spine: Inyc, their tribe’s medic, stress and grief evident even through the protection of her helm as she recounted in a shaky voice the horrifically vast Imperial Remnant that had descended on the planet not even twenty-four hours after Din had escaped with the children. How the Covert had put up a hell of a fight, blasting and shooting with all their fury as the Troopers chased them through the tunnels. How despite their best efforts they’d fallen one by one, as the survivors grabbed whatever they could, children and supplies and each other, and fled.

How in the confusion and smoke and awful, bloody death, she’d lost track of Paz.

Inyc didn’t often show emotion—she couldn’t given her rate, given what she saw in the infirmary on a daily basis. But Din hadn’t been able to stop shaking as the other Mandalorian looked up at him from the little cone of blue light, sorrow and apology thickening her voice.  _ He went back in to cover our retreat, _ she’d whispered, hoarse.  _ There wasn’t even time to set a rendezvous. All I saw as we hit the thrusters was smoke. I’m so sorry, Din. _

That was three days ago.

Really, it was a miracle he was still standing. It felt like he hadn’t slept since, calling up all his contacts, chasing every smoke-thin lead, constantly cycling through all the Crest’s channels as he sought a message from Paz, a ping, coordinates, anything to tell him his husband was still alive. He’d had to tell the twins too, he couldn’t keep this from them, and they’d responded exactly as expected: Roan fell into anxious silence and had had two panic attacks already, while Ruun grew spines, angry and bitter and lashing out at anyone who got close. And usually, that was Din.

Sorgan had been a welcome distraction. He suspected Cara would’ve beaten the shit out of him even if he hadn’t been weakened by grief and sleep deprivation, and then taking the time to train the villagers, to strategize how to take out the raiders and that goddamned demon-eyed AT-ST...for a few hours there he’d almost been able to forget, losing himself in blaster bolts and smoke and the burning hum of battle. 

But then, after. When Omera approached him, smile soft and eyes hopeful, and he’d tried to find something polite to say, something that wouldn’t get her and Cara asking questions and trying to give comfort when all he wanted was Paz...and Ruun had just lost it. The basket went flying across the room, scattering bright blue krill everywhere, followed by her angry screech:  _ He’s married! He’s married to my dad who’s still missing, who’s probably dead so just back off, you fucking homewrecking  _ bitch!

Then she’d turned and fled into the woods, and Din had chased her, of course. After apologizing profusely to Omera and making sure Roan was okay to look after the child, he’d hurried out after her, pursued her onto the ship, ordered her to go back to the village and apologize, which was when she’d turned her venom on him.

The dark gray of the fresher’s door seemed to glare at him, radiating anger and hurt. Fresh pain burst in Din’s chest and he hissed and curled down over his knees, reaching up to tug at his hair. Gods, he just wanted Paz here. The older Mandalorian would sort it out like he always did: he’d calm Roan when he hyperventilated or woke screaming from nightmares, and he’d say exactly the right words in that sharp voice of his that would get Ruun to press her lips together and tremble and finally run into his arms for comfort. Hell, he’d even know what to do with the baby, how to quiet it when it cried and bathe it without splashing water everywhere and, just. Din just wanted his fucking  _ husband,  _ warm and alive and  _ here. _

A soft hiss as the fresher door slid open, followed by tentative footsteps that shuffled forward to stand in front of him. “ _ Buirok? _ ”

He sighed and looked up. Ruun twisted her hands in her lap as she watched him, lower lip trembling. “I-I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears spilling over. “I just—I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean it, I j-just don’t want him to be dead...”

And Din shot to his feet without thought, reaching out to pull Ruun to him as she sobbed. “Shh, sweet,” he whispered, stroking her back as she clung to him and trembled. “I know. It’s okay, he’s okay, shh...”

But even as he dipped down to kiss her hair, tears prickling his own eyes, he knew it was a lie. Paz wasn’t okay. If he was, he’d have gotten in touch. He’d have found Din like he’d promised he would, back in their room on Nevarro when they’d made their heartbreaking decision. 

If he really was dead...gods, if Din had truly lost the one person in the world, the whole fucking galaxy who meant everything to him...

And that’s when he noticed the beeping.

It was soft, almost lost under Ruun’s hitched sobs and the pounding of his own heart, but he recognized it: a six-tone pattern, three high, three low, as the indicator on his left vambrace flashed blue.

An incoming message.

“Ruun.” It was absolutely shitty parenting but he shoved her back from him, ignoring her confused noise as he reached for his vambrace to input commands. “Baby, I’m sorry, but I—I gotta get this...”

And bless her, she seemed to understand because she just shifted back against him to make room, both of them staring as the little cone of blue light flickered to life above his forearm, shuddered and settled and resolved into...

Ruun made a high-pitched, broken sound and covered her mouth with her hands. Din, for his part, felt his legs go weak, everything inside him melting into joy and relief and warm, endless love at the sight of that familiar, dark blue helm, slightly dented on one side but still so clear, so wonderfully safe. 

Gods.

_ Paz. _

His husband didn’t wait, image shimmering in and out, shitty connection breaking up his voice as he said, “Din? Oh shit, I hope I built this right, that fuckin’ trader said he had the parts—Din, baby, I’m okay, I got out. Tell me the kids are safe! I’m on Vallaya-9, sending coordinates so just—oh fuck, no, will you fucking  _ work _ you goddamned—”

The image flickered and vanished. Ruun squeaked and made to reach for his vambrace, then stopped herself. The ship fell silent around them. Din stared down at the blank space where Paz had been and let out a breathless laugh, heart swelling in his chest until it seemed he might just fly apart with it, this knowledge that his husband was alive, he was still here and of course Din should have known.

Paz would never leave without him. Somehow in the uncaring vastness of the universe they’d found each other, grabbed on to one another and held tight, and it would take a lot more than some fucking Imps to destroy that. 

It was time to go.

“Ruun.” His daughter straightened up immediately, and Din nodded out past the Razor Crest toward where the village in the distance continued its morning bustle. “Get your brother and the little one. We’re leaving.”

“Yes,  _ Buirok! _ ” She turned and ran for the ramp, and as Din grabbed his helm and hurried toward the ladderwell up to the cockpit, he felt his smile stretch his face.

_ Paz. Husband. We’re coming for you. _

#

Vallaya-9 was a shithole. The backwater of backwaters, the tiny planetoid boasted one major city and every vice you could think of: from drugs to weapons to a warm hole to fuck for the right price, Vallaya-9 had you covered. It was not a place you went to find legitimate work or even to be safe, really, and right now Din didn’t give a shit about any of it.

Small blessings: even a place like this still had a healthy respect for Mandalorians. The locals threw him intense looks and the occasional hissed-out threat but no one actually approached as he tried not to hurry through the buzzing black market district, following the steady beeping of the fob in his hand. Anyway, Din pitied the first person who tried to slow him down. Paz was here somewhere, and anyone who tried to keep him from his husband would regret it.

He wasn’t stupid, of course; the kids were back on the Crest parked near the outskirts of the city, in a secure hangar he’d paid half their remaining credits for. Roan had just about burst into tears and Ruun looked ready to murder him, but in the end Din had forced the twins and the little one to remain on board, even going so far as to lock the ship down behind him. They’d hate him for that, but he had no choice. He couldn’t worry about their safety in a place as vile as this. Not when all his attention was focused on finding Paz.

The tracking fob thrummed against his palm and its beeping increased. He was getting close. This part of the market looked just a tad more legit, vendor stalls selling mostly things like clothes and street food. Even criminals had to eat, right? 

More beeping, even faster now. Din turned right down a narrow alley, heart leaping up to the back of his throat. Was he here? What if—oh, gods—what if he was too late, what if somehow the Imps had intercepted Paz’s transmission and beaten him here, captured him or executed him and left only a bloody, broken corpse—

He broke into a jog and then a run, uncaring of how it must have looked to passers-by, a fully-armored Mandalorian sprinting through the alley like he was being chased. He had to find Paz, and here, the fob led him toward a side building, walls crumbling and falling over and it wasn’t this door, no, not this one either, where the fuck was his husband—

He reached the last of the boxy little rooms and the fob went nuts. The door was locked and Din tossed the tracker away and pounded his fist against the metal. “ _ Paz! _ ” he cried, and it didn’t matter how panicked it sounded, how desperate and small as he shoved his shoulder up against the door, trying to get it to open. “Paz, it’s me, open the door,  _ please _ —”

The metal partition snapped aside and he had just a half-second to register the darkness beyond before something grabbed him and hauled him forward. “ _ Din, _ ” came his name in that beautiful smoky voice and Din couldn’t even care about the broken sound he made as he barreled forward into Paz, trying to touch all of him at once. The momentum took them into the back wall, Paz crying out on impact and Din would check on that, really he would, just as soon as he was done losing himself in the familiar press of his husband’s armor and the comforting safety of his scent.

The door slid shut behind them and he didn’t wait, tearing off his helm as Paz did the same and then they were kissing. Din whined and pressed as close as possible as he relearned his husband’s taste, the security and comfort of Paz’s lips pressed to his own. Paz, for his part, seemed to want to fuse them right together, crushing Din to him so close it actually got a little hard to breathe but he couldn’t care less, he could suffocate and disappear right now and it would be fine because he had Paz here, solid and real and alive. Finally, the world was right. Finally, everything was okay.

It seemed both an eternity and no time at all before he noticed Paz was shaking, and not just due to emotion. Then his husband shifted a little and hissed in pain and all the alarm bells went off in Din’s head as he pulled back to stare down at Paz’s leg, wrapped in dirty bandages and trembling as it tried to support his weight. “Shit, Paz, are you...come here.”

He helped the older Mandalorian over to the tiny, threadbare bed in the corner, metal groaning as he carefully laid Paz down. His husband winced at the movement, fingers tightening on Din’s arm. “Fuck.  _ Ow. _ ”

“What happened?” Quickly Din leaned in to check him over for other injuries, and now he could see it, just what Paz had been through the past few days: his armor was scored with ash and dust, he had what looked like a flesh wound in his upper arm from a glanced-off blaster bolt, and the leg...Din couldn’t help the low moan as he carefully unwrapped the bandages, Paz biting down on an agonized cry as the burns were revealed, blistering all down his skin, dark and oozing pus.

“Had...Had to use a grenade in close quarters,” Paz wheezed, clinging to Din’s shoulder. “B-Bottom of my armor’s not beskar so...and then I got here and spent all my credits on parts for that transmitter. I did the b-best I could.”

Din nodded and kissed him, soft. “Okay. Just settle back. I’ll take care of this.”

Paz obeyed, wincing, and Din went searching for the lights, breathlessly grateful that he’d thought to grab the medkit off the Crest before heading here. The universe had already tried once to take Paz from him. He wouldn’t let it succeed the second time.

#

Ruun’s whole face scrunched up, eyes glittering, and Din set his jaw. “Don’t,” he ordered. “You’ll wake him up with your screaming.”

She gave in immediately. Next to her, features tinted blue and distorted within the holoprojection, Roan swallowed. “But he’s okay, right? You promise?”

Din glanced over his shoulder at the large figure lying unmoving on the rack, then turned back and nodded. “Yes. I’ll bring him back to the ship as soon as he’s able to walk, but I’m not risking the three of you in a city like this. That’s final, Ruun.”

His daughter looked away, everything about her broadcasting frustration and worry, but to her credit her voice remained steady. “Fine.”

Din let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “I’ll check back in in two hours, earlier if anything changes, okay? I love you.”

“Love you,” the twins replied, and the connection flickered off.

In the quiet of the room, Din sighed and bowed his head. Just a little while longer. A few more hours and the bacta would finish healing Paz’s leg, and then they could leave. Go back to the Crest and the kids, their home and their family, and everything would be okay.

As if on cue, the bed behind him creaked. Din turned and hurried over, supporting Paz as the older man propped himself up with a groan. “Shit. How long was I out?”

“About an hour.” Din nodded at Paz’s leg, stark white bandages almost too clean and bright in the darkness of the room. “How do you feel?”

“A little bette— _ owww, _ shit. Okay, maybe not. How long d’you think it’ll take?”

“Depends on when you feel like you can put weight on it,” Din answered, then narrowed his eyes at Paz’s hopeful look. “And yes, I’ll know if you’re faking.”

His husband leaned back with a defeated sigh. “Yeah, all right.”

Silence fell for a moment, easy and comfortable. Din edged forward to settle against Paz, positioning his knees on either side of the older man’s thighs, careful not to put pressure on his leg as he dropped his forehead to Paz’s bare shoulder. His husband was naked, all the better for Din to treat his wounds, and he took a moment to trace the multitude of scars on Paz’s chest. They all had a set, of course—you weren’t Mandalorian without one—but gods, Paz had  _ so many, _ a map scored into his skin charting a lifetime of suffering and war but also honor and victory. Here was the fighter, the soldier, the commander and leader of great battles. Here was the man underneath, whose body spoke of terrible things but who loved Din with a force and ferocity he wasn’t sure he deserved.

Paz hummed then and laid a broad palm on the small of his back, stroking the skin beneath his tunic as he murmured, “How’re the kids?”

“Okay. Pissed, obviously, because I’m making them stay on the ship.”

Paz huffed a laugh, low. “How have you handled Ruun these last few days?”

“Tch. Are you kidding? She’s the one handling me. I’ve been a bit of a mess since you went missing.”

“Yeah?” Paz sighed. “Sorry.”

“What? No!” Din snapped his head up. “If there’s anyone who should be sorry it’s me. If I hadn’t gone back for the kid—”

“If you hadn’t gone back for the kid I’d have never forgiven you,” Paz finished for him. “Foundlings are the future. You know this.”

And yes, Din did, but that didn’t change the fact that...his throat tightened and he shifted forward to press their foreheads together. “I almost lost you,” he whispered, as Paz held him close. “Husband. Do you understand. For three days I thought you were  _ dead. _ ”

Paz swallowed, something shaky and vulnerable entering his voice as he answered, “Yeah,” and kissed him.

Din pressed into it immediately. It started chaste but then he ran his tongue along Paz’s bottom lip and his husband opened obediently for him, sucking Din’s tongue into his mouth with a low moan. Din sighed and pressed closer, curling his tongue around his husband’s as something deep inside him settled at last, found purchase and safety in the comfort of Paz’s taste and smell and gentle touch. The first warm tingles of arousal started up, dripping down his spine to pool between his legs and he smiled and drew back, Paz blinking up at him a little dazed. “Be right back.”

He heaved himself off the bed, grateful he’d already removed his armor as it meant the tunic and pants came off easily enough. The room was cool, enough to make goosebumps break out all over his bare skin as he grabbed the medkit, rifling quickly through it until he found the little tube of lubricant. Thank the gods he and Paz fucked on the Crest often enough to have planned ahead.

His husband definitely seemed to be on board; when Din turned back Paz already had his cock in his hand, pumping languidly, the long, full length of it flushed dark with blood and starting to curve up toward his stomach. “Excited?” Din teased, climbing carefully back onto the rack, and Paz just shrugged and offered up an easy grin.

“Always am with you,” he said, and though his voice was light there was something intent in his dark eyes that made Din swallow and lean forward to kiss him.

“Yeah.” He wasn’t quite sure what he was agreeing with, but it hardly mattered. He didn’t have to understand everything in order to love Paz.

He was already half-hard, just Paz’s closeness and the familiarity of his husband’s scent and touch, so he gasped and pushed into it when Paz wrapped long, calloused fingers around them both, stroking deliciously from base to tip. “I could do us like this,” his husband offered and Din bit his lip, rocking up into the friction. Gods, honestly it wasn’t a bad idea, he could think of worse things than the hot slide of Paz’s cock against his, the tight squeeze of his large fist, everything already starting to slick up with precome. But it also didn’t feel like  _ enough. _ He’d been nothing but an anxious ball of worry and stress the last few days, riding the knife-edge of caring for the kids and running from the Guild and that deep, world-shattering terror that Paz was dead, and he just. He needed that connection right now, the grounding feel of Paz against him, in him, the reassurance that his husband really was here, that Din hadn’t lost him to the grinding darkness of an uncaring universe.

Paz seemed to understand because he released their cocks to hold Din’s hips instead, and Din sighed and popped the cap off the tube, slicking up one hand and bracing the other against Paz’s chest as he reached back. “Let me do the work,” he said, “and stop me if anything hurts.”

“Okay,” Paz answered, just a touch of awe in his voice as he stared at Din, who flushed under the attention even as he prodded at his entrance with a slick finger, hissing as he breached the tight ring of muscle.

He didn’t do this often, mostly on long trips offworld when he missed his husband like a limb, so it took a moment for him to find the right angle to work his finger in. It felt odd as it always did, his nerves unused to the dual sensations of penetrating and being penetrated, hole twitching as his body tried to decide whether it wanted to push him out or take him further in. He breathed through it though, and tried to relax, gradually working a second finger in and his body did remember then, realized he was about to get fucked and how much he loved that, muscles beginning to loosen as the first tiny crackles of pleasure licked up his spine.

Some shifting from Paz, and Din only realized he’d closed his eyes when suddenly a third slick finger joined his own, bumping and sliding over his knuckles. He gasped then, looking down to see his husband staring up with his mouth open and face flushed, like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Paz was fully hard now, long thick cock dripping onto his stomach as he reached down with his free hand to palm Din’s prick and holy shit but  _ that _ felt good. Din humped forward into the stimulation, then sank back down onto his fingers with a sigh. “ _ Nn,  _ Paz, I said—”

“I know, baby.” Paz pumped him once, just enough friction to short out Din’s brain as his finger prodded between Din’s, seeking permission. “I just...you’re so hot, I wanna feel you, please...”

Din just whined and nodded because honestly, was he actually going to say no? Paz tipped forward then, sealing his lips to the base of his throat even as that thick finger crooked and pressed and pushed inside. Din lost his breath at that, tipping up to stare at the crumbling ceiling as he rode out the pressure and burn and that exquisite, delicious stretch. Gods, only Paz could do this, play his body like a fine-tuned instrument until he trembled and whimpered and shook apart. Fuck, only Paz, only his husband, only—

And then that finger plunged past his own, seeking out and then assaulting his prostate with brutal certainty and Din couldn’t help the way his hips bucked, mouth falling open on a broken cry. “Oh fuck,  _ Paz _ ...” And his husband just hummed, sucking a mark into Din’s neck as he did it again, every nerve in Din’s body lighting up with pleasure and he just—he couldn’t, he  _ needed _ —

“Fuck!” He yanked their fingers out with a hiss and grabbed the lube, squeezing a generous amount into his palm. “I just— _ fuck, _ I’m ready, love, just let me—”

Paz nodded, moaning as Din slicked him up and then lifted into position, reaching back to help him aim and then it was just his husband’s hot, blunt cockhead pressing against his rim, bumping and catching and finally sinking up and  _ in _ . Din threw his head back and keened, everything inside him lighting up as that beautiful, throbbing length speared him open, pushing the breath from his lungs and filling him up with that delicious stretch and burn and feeling of oh so  _ right. _

As always it seemed to go on forever, every vein and rib and luscious inch of Paz’s cock stretching him wide and dragging over his insides, sending pleasure and heat shivering through his nerves and all his extremities. Paz for his part let out a long, shuddering groan, hands gripping bruises into Din’s hips. “Holy—nyuhh,  _ Din _ ,” he said, utterly lost, and Din just squeezed his shoulders, reassuring, even as he worked himself down another half-inch, then another, until finally he felt the tickle of pubic hair as Paz’s balls nestled up against his rim. He sighed then and dropped his chin, taking a moment to just breathe and enjoy it, the safety and comfort of having Paz inside him, of finally bringing his husband home.

Of course, then Paz just had to ruin the moment by moving, hands flexing at Din’s hips as he thrust up and then promptly grimaced when the motion jostled his leg. Din squeaked, then thumped his shoulder. “What did I say?”

“Sorry,” Paz answered, not looking sorry at all. “Just thought you might want some hel— _ ahh... _ ” His mouth fell open and his head thunked back against the wall as Din ground down once more, circling his hips to take him deep. “Oh fuck, you...”

“Let me... _ uhnn _ ...do the work,” Din panted, bracing against Paz’s shoulders for leverage as he began a slow ride, lifting up just a couple inches before sinking back down again. It wasn’t fast and hard the way they usually did it and with this angle they missed his prostate entirely but still it was  _ good _ , hot sparks sizzling up his spine with every firm slide, every press of Paz’s cock so deep up inside him. Din whined and picked up the pace, grinding down hard as Paz groaned, and just having his husband here and close and staring up at him in breathless wonder, he could totally come from this alone given enough time—

And then Paz growled and surged up and hauled him in for a kiss, messy and wet. As their tongues tangled warm, calloused fingers wrapped around Din’s cock and everything suddenly became fire. Din moaned and thrust forward, that pressure and squeeze perfect around his throbbing length and then when he sank back Paz filled him again, that deepest part of him aching and sizzling and stuffed so deliciously full and he just—it was so much, too much, he couldn’t—

“Come on,” Paz hissed, breath hot against Din’s mouth as he worked Din’s cock with brutal, single-minded focus, tugging and squeezing, twisting his thumb beneath the head so that all Din could do was whimper and buck into it. “Fuck, baby, come on, mark me up, cover me in it, oh fuck—”

And Din couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to stop it, his husband’s cock stuffing him  _ so fucking good _ and his wet fist so tight and perfect and he wailed and came, twitching and shuddering as he shot all over Paz’s stomach and chest, spattering that dark skin in long ropes of translucent white, marking him, claiming him, making Paz  _ his. _

They both moaned then, wanton and crazed. Without hesitation Paz swiped a hand through the mess and lifted it to his mouth, groaning as he sucked Din’s come off his fingers like he’d never tasted anything better. The sight was enough to make Din’s cock twitch and blurt another couple drops even as he continued grinding down onto Paz like his life depended on it. And it kind of did, really, because in this moment it felt like if he didn’t get his husband’s hot come all up inside him  _ right the fuck now _ he’d just about die, and Din mewled and worked his hips faster, panting and drooling and just  _ needing so bad— _

“ _ Nnh,  _ gods, fuuu—” Paz squeezed his eyes shut, mouth slack as his hips stuttered and a second later Din felt it,  _ finally, _ the hot splash of Paz’s seed so deep inside making his toes curl, rhythmic pulsing spurts that coated his inner walls and filled him up so perfectly. He sighed and pushed into it, clenching again and again around Paz’s cock to milk every last drop until at last his husband whined and pushed at him, overstimulated. Only then did he relax, both of them making identical breathless noises as Paz’s cock slipped out of him.

In the sudden silence of the room they took a moment to regroup, the only sounds those of their harsh breaths and Din’s own pounding heart as he fell forward into Paz’s waiting arms. His husband accepted him with his usual ease, running a warm palm up and down his sweaty back as he murmured, breathless, “You are fucking  _ divine. _ ”

Din smiled and tipped up for a kiss. “You’re all right too, I guess,” he said, as Paz huffed a laugh into his mouth. “How’s your leg?”

“Ah. Okay.” Paz shifted a bit and Din glanced down. It looked fine, bandages still tightly in place, no signs of bleeding or fresh injury but sometimes with Mandalorians it was best to be sure. 

“Anything hurt?”

“No.” Paz grinned, just this side of wicked. “I feel great, actually. Wonder why.”

Din snorted and smacked his shoulder. Then he sighed, looking down at the mess all over Paz’s torso accompanied by the slide of warm come down the backs of his thighs. “We’d better clean up.”

“Yeah.” A strong hand gripped his chin and tilted up so he could see Paz watching him, dark eyes bright with devotion and intent. “I love you,” his husband said. “No matter where we are or what we’re doing. I will always love you.”

Din swallowed, heart swelling, and tipped forward to kiss him. And in that moment, pressed up against his husband, this man he’d met and married and loved and couldn’t fucking live without, he decided: never again. Never again would he allow them to be separated like this, to experience that guilt and uncertainty and mind-numbing fear. Never again would he leave Paz to suffer alone in the dark. More than the Creed or the tribe or the whole fucking galaxy, Paz Vizsla was what held Din Djarin together, filled every corner of him with hope and light and made his soul thrum in completion. Never again would he let that go.

Oblivious to the swirling fire of his thoughts, Paz drew back and offered a crooked grin. “So how ‘bout we go and let me finally meet this third kid of ours,” he said, and Din laughed and nodded and kissed him again, safe and secure on the foundation of his husband’s love.

He didn’t know where they went from here, what places they’d escape to or what enemies they would encounter. He didn’t know what they’d do about the child’s strange, terrifying abilities, or how they’d go about locating the survivors from the Covert and slowly and painfully rebuilding all that they had lost. But he was sure of one thing. Whatever the universe threw at him, Imps or the Guild or whatever darkness decided to come crawling out from the farthest corners of the galaxy, he would face it all down without fear. With their children by his side and his husband at his back, he would fight with all that he was and he would  _ win _ because, in the end, he had all he ever needed.

He had a family and a Creed and something important to protect.

Gods have mercy on anyone who stood in his way.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Permissions:** All my works, including this one, can be translated and podficced without first asking my express permission. I ask only that you credit me as the original author and provide a link back to the original work. For anything else, please ask first. Thanks.


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